


Forget Me Not

by WeaglesAndBrobeans



Series: A Very Capitals Collection [11]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22236643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeaglesAndBrobeans/pseuds/WeaglesAndBrobeans
Summary: “MRI scheduled for April 11th.”Bristling all over again, Nicke scowled darkly.“What the fuck? Why so far out?”“I don’t know Solnyshko,” Alex replied tiredly.For a moment Nicke just sat and watched his love. It had been like this for weeks now. Alex facing perpetual exhaustion and often pain. He wanted answers.
Relationships: Nicklas Backstrom/Alexander Ovechkin
Series: A Very Capitals Collection [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1168709
Comments: 8
Kudos: 47





	1. Solnyshko

**Author's Note:**

> This is a hockey AU where Nicke and Alex are married to each other and Andre and Tom are still dear to them even after many years.

April 10th 2025 10am

“Sir I don’t care how much money you have. I don’t care what your status is. We are full and you can sign in and wait for as long as it takes to get in or you can return tomorrow for the appointment.”

The woman stood tall, eyes matching his own intensity.

Nicke slumped in defeat. She was just doing her job after all.

Turning back to Alex who had been sitting slouched over in the Emergency Room’s chair surrounded by an array of patients, all needing care as well, Nicke approached the larger man.

When Alex felt his presence he stooped forward further, nudging his head into the soft of his husband’s stomach. A small whine brought Nicke’s lithe hands into his pepper gray hair.

“We have to come back tomorrow,” Nicke softly informed him. “It’s too busy.”

Alex didn’t question him, but he made no effort to move until Nicke stepped back and reached out for his partner’s hands. “C’mon.”

March 30th 2025 3pm

Nicke heard the front door open and close from where he’d been rinsing vegetables in the kitchen. Wandering into the living room he watched as Alex flopped onto the sofa and curled in on himself, eyes falling shut.

It had been weeks of this. Headaches and vomiting and no motivation.

“What did the trainers say?” Nicke inquired gently as he perched on the small span of couch left over.

For a moment Alex just breathed deeply, but eventually he opened one eye to squint up at the Swede.

“Say maybe it’s not flu after all. Maybe it’s migraine’s.”

The blonde bit his lip as irritation swept through him. Just because they were veterans now, just a few months from retirement, didn’t give the training staff any right to not give the same care they had given in their prime. Yet here they sat, three weeks into this – whatever this is. First it had been casually diagnosed as a flu and then, after symptoms persisted, a new diagnosis seemed to have been tossed out as an answer.

“Are they- what’s their plan? Are you meeting with a specialist?”

Alex groaned and turned so his face smooshed into the soft fabric of the couch.

“I’m bring you with me next time.”

Nicke rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help a grin when Alex’s massive hand pawed at his thigh playfully despite not looking up from the couch.

“MRI scheduled for April 11th.”

Bristling all over again, Nicke scowled darkly. “What the fuck? Why so far out?”

“I don’t know Solnyshko,” Alex replied tiredly.

For a moment Nicke just sat and watched his love. It had been like this for weeks now. Alex facing perpetual exhaustion and often pain. He wanted answers.

August 14th 2025 5pm

“What are you writing,” Alex asked brightly as he peered over Nicke’s shoulder.

Nicke sat with an index card and a sharpie, tongue out as he concentrated on writing legibly.

On the bright little card read the words, “My name is Alex Ovechkin. If found, call Nicklas Backstrom at 202-492-8748.”

Capping the pen, Nicklas glanced up at his husband. “Just want to make sure that if I lose you I can find you again.”

His tone jumped teasingly, but his heart clinched tight.

“Put it in your wallet.”

April 10th 2025 10:23AM

Tires spun as Nicke whipped into the ER’s front entrance. To his left Alex sat hunched inward and whimpering, fingers digging into his head with one hand as the other white-knuckled a plastic bag they’d found in the backseat.

“Wait here,” Nicke murmured as he swung open the car door and raced back into the ER. They’d been gone less than twenty minutes.

“I need a wheelchair please!” he called out. Quickly a nursemaid, thankfully a large muscular man, responded.

“What happened?” he asked as he pushed the chair towards the exit just behind a rushing Nicke.

“My husband, he has an MRI tomorrow for a head issue, but it just got worse. They tried to send us home earlier, but he was vomiting on the side of the road before we could get three blocks. He just, we’ll wait, but he needs something for the pain at least. I can’t sit at home and watch him suffer like this,” rambled Nicke.

As he’d been sharing his side of things, the man had skillfully maneuvered all 6’3 and 235 pounds of Alexander Ovechkin into the wheel chair.

The man turned to put an assuring hand on Nicke’s shoulder. “He’ll be cared for. It might be in the hallway, but he’ll be cared for.”

December 25th 2025 9am

Nicke sat on the couch, back nuzzled against Ovi’s expanse of chest. It felt warm. It felt safe. He could feel Ovi dig his chin in as he peered over Nicke’s shoulder to watch.

In his lap sat a tiny box wrapped in red paper. He slowly peeled back the wrapping paper to find a jewelry box. Holding the soft velvet box in his palm, Nicke pulled it open.

Inside lay a delicate silver necklace, it twisted into an 8 and a red gem rested inside the bottom loop. It was simple, but he felt his breath catch nonetheless.

“Thank you,” he whispered. Alex nuzzled his ear in response.

“That’s um, that’s not all,” interjected Andre from his spot on the floor beside a tall and brightly lit tree. “We um. We helped him record a message. It’s called Beam Your Love and um.”

Tom jumped in as Andre paused in his search for the right words to explain it. “This radio company in California sends audio messages out of a satellite in space and sound just, keeps traveling out there so like the message lasts forever. And there’s this website where you can enter the code, yours is NA0819 and if you type it in then you can listen to it at any time.”

Nicke felt tears burning at his eyes and he hadn’t even heard the message yet. But the thought, the sentiment, it was so much.

“You guys, this is,” he hesitated to look down and bite at his lip. “This is the best gift I could have asked for.”

Soon Tom was fiddling with Nicke’s phone, saving the page to his home screen and showing him how to type in the code as soft music played from the page.

In a moment Alex’s voice played out into the room.

“Solnyshko. Oh Nicke. I love you. I love you day I called your name to draft. I love you day I give you cup. I love you day I give you ring. I love you day I give you vows. I love you today. I love you always.”

Too soon the message ended, but Nicke sat curled in towards Alex, shaking as tears ran down his cheeks.

Alex held him tightly, petting at his curls as he wept.

“Bad message make you cry?” he joked.

Nicklas shook his head sharply.

“No, it’s perfect.”


	2. Magic and the Mass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The coil in Nicke’s chest unwound just slightly. Alex was still joking.

March 14th 2025 9:04am

The morning had been frustrating. It seemed that more and more often, Nicke found himself doing everything to coax his husband out of bed and down to the kitchen. It’s like Alex’s drive for life had been switched off.

Running slightly behind because of Alex’s new pace of life, the two were driving towards practice with Alex behind the wheel.

Approaching a green light, Alex slowed to a complete stop and looked both ways before continuing.

Nicke stared. “What the fuck Alex?”

Startling slightly, the Russian turned towards his partner with a dazed look in his eyes. “What?”

Gesturing back towards the stoplight now behind them, Nicke could feel the incredulity on his face. “You stopped at a green light. Why would you stop at a green light?”

Alex blinked slowly, eyes trained on the road. “Felt safe, I guess,” he responded with a shrug.

Safe. Not once in all the years Nicke had known the man, had Alex made a decision based on the safety of it. They were the first out couple in the league after all. And Alex is Russian. He didn’t make choices to be safe.

October 9th 2025 11:05am

Nicke clipped in his harness before reaching over to make sure Alex had gotten his correctly. The worker would check it as well, he knew, but the last few months had ignited protective streak within him.

Feet dangling, Nicke turned to look at Alex who was happily watching the family on the other side of him as they settled in for the ride.

Alex’s request to visit Disney World had honestly surprised Nicke. He’d never really wanted to come to the chaotic, over-filled theme park before. When he’d hesitated and asked why, Alex had turned those bright blue eyes on him with a playful spark. “It’s magic yeah? Who doesn’t want magic?” So Nicke complied.

They’d spent the morning hand in hand, wandering through Epcot. Tasting different foods and taking too many pictures. Alex had insisted on the photopass.

It became a habit. Nicke spent more time watching the delight on Alex’s face from ride to ride, than he did taking it all in for himself.

As their “hang glider” lowered back to the hangar floor, Alex turned and caught Nicke watching.

“See?” he grinned brightly. “You want to travel, but look! We do it all in three minutes. Magic!”

Nicke smiled softly at his husband. Throughout all their years together, his zeal for life never wavered.

That evening as the fireworks exploded into the warm night sky, Alex caught Nicke again.

“You’re missing it Solnyshko,” he chided as he tugged the smaller man closer.

Nicke smiled softly, chest blooming with warmth as he leaned over to peck a kiss at Alex’s chin. “No I’m not missing anything at all.”

April 11th 2025 1:03am

For the first time in weeks, Alex looked peaceful. Despite being tucked onto a too small gurney with an IV in his arm, his eyes closed without clinching and his forehead remained smooth. His breaths were steady and some of his color had returned. Nicke wished they’d come here sooner.

From his perch on the chair beside the gurney, Nicke heard the door swing open. The man behind it stood tall in his white coat, his face soft, but solemn.

“Mr. Backstrom?” he asked reaching out a hand. “I’m Doctor Devour.”

“Uh, Nicke is fine,” the blonde replied as he unfurled to reach out and receive the handshake. “So uh. Did you find anything?”

With a soft sigh, the man nodded. Pulling an x-ray from a manila folder he tucked it onto a screen on the wall with a back-light. “As you can see here, we’ve found a mass in the right frontal lobe. This is what’s been causing the headaches, the confusion, the pain. Has he had any trouble with motivation lately?”

Nicke nodded around the lump forming in his throat.

“That makes sense because this part of the brain impacts executive functioning, it’s the part that gives people a sense of initiative.”

Staring at the small white blob, Nicke could feel his hands start to shake.

“Is it cancer? What’s next?”

The man gave a sad and not quite assuring smile as he pulled up a stool to sit eye to eye.

“We won’t know what it is until we take a biopsy. But the mass needs to go either way and it needs to be removed as soon as possible.”

April 14th 2025 4pm

It wasn’t often that Alexander Ovechkin seemed small. And maybe it was two months of no appetite and 4 days in the hospital paired with a traumatic brain surgery. Or maybe this therapist was just a mountain of a man. Regardless, it made quite the sight.

The man had a belt wrapped around Alex’s waist to keep him steady, Alex’s hands resting on his shoulders for support as they took one small step after one small step.

Nicke felt another wave of nausea. He’d faced a lot of unease over the past weeks. Seeing the most competent man he’d ever known learning how to walk again. It cut deep.

As the two men continued in their doctor-patient waltz, Alex began to hum. Nicke didn’t recognize the song but the doctor tipped his head back to belt out a laugh.

“Now I’ve got daughters,” the man chuckled. “So tell me. How do you know the song from Sleeping Beauty, mister superstar?”

Alex grinned cheekily, gap tooth as endearing as ever. “I’m good captain. Watch Lyla and Leni and always see movie with dragon.”

The man nodded, smile still pulling at his cheeks. “Alright, that’s good. That’s good.”

The coil in Nicke’s chest unwound just slightly. Alex was still joking.

August 13th 2025 2pm

Nicke stood in line at the store, arms full of just a few essentials for the evening. He was taking Alex to a Nationals game and had decided to pick up a few things on their way.

“I think I want a Slurpee,” Alex declared as he glanced around the store they’d been waiting in.

Glancing over fondly, Nicke nodded. “We can do that. It’s just down the street.”

For just a moment he drifted, lost in thought, when he heard a banging on the window of the store. Gaze snapping to the exit his heart dropped as he saw that Alex must have wandered outside and was now smiling widely from the wrong side of the glass. Pointing enthusiastically, he gave a thumbs up, and ignoring Nicke’s vigorous shaking of his head, Alex ran.

“Oh my god,” Nicke groaned, tossing his handful of items onto the counter and running towards the exit.

Whipping his head left, he saw that Alex had made some serious progress as he ran.

Nicke had never run so hard in his life. When he finally caught his husband, he grabbed the man’s wrist and stooped over to breathe heavily.

“Alex you can’t do that,” he scolded through heavy breaths.

“What? I just went for Slurpee, I told you,” Alex snapped back.

Something in Nicke cracked in that moment. “Alex. You need to stay with me please. I can’t lose you okay?”

He leaned forward, burrowing his face into the bigger man’s chest, hands grasping at his back. “Please?” he all but whispered.

Pulling back, he looked up to find Alex’s face more confused than compassionate.

July 4th 2025 11:14pm

Nicke pulled back from the kiss to pout at his husband. “You still want this tired old man body?” he challenged.

With a surprising show of strength, Alex lifted Nicke into his arms before shoving him backwards onto the bed. He prowled closer, crawling atop the smaller man.

“Fucking sexy hall of famer,” he growled as he nipped at the Swede’s jawline and brushed a wandering hand down his sensitive side. “Want you just like this.”

Gasping as he writhed beneath the bear of a man, Nicke couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lips so he bit down on it. “We’re officially retired,” he whispered, voice quiet in the awe of it.

Alex nuzzled in closer to bite at his pulse and bathe it with his tongue. “Fucking rights baby.”

Nicke jerked his hips in retaliation. “Fucking rights.”


	3. He Hates Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicke hated goodbyes. He hated them. He could care for and clean and maneuver his husband with assuredness, but to say goodbye? He just wasn’t ready yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains graphic depiction of a slow illness-related death.

January 20th 2026 7:17pm

“Alex, I told you, we’re done eating,” Nicke quietly chided as he moved to pull the paper plate from his husband’s massive hands. The plate was engulfed in food. It was Alex’s fourth plate.

Sighing, Nicke turned to Mike Green (who had been hosting this small reunion).

“We need to go,” he murmured apologetically, but he could tell this wouldn’t go over so simply.

Mike’s eyebrows shot up and he glanced around the room of retired hockey men. “Nicke it’s just getting started. Are you kidding me?”

A breath of air huffed between Nicke’s lips. “Alex is-,” he began, but Mike interrupted.

“Alex is fine. Look at him!”

It was true. The man looked jubilant as he tried to commandeer the Karaoke mic from a Russian who formerly played on a line with Mike in Detroit. Nicke couldn’t recall his name.

“There’s things you don’t see Mike,” Nicke tried. “This isn’t about me okay. He’s. Fuck. He’s had four plates of food. He sees food and his brain says that he needs to eat it because it’s there and I’m already going to have to deal with him puking it all up tonight and I know he’s going to get his hands on some vodka. I just can’t do this. We need to go home.”

When the monologue trailed off, Nicke’s shoulders drooped and his face felt tight and his hands were clinched tightly. “I’m tired. Maybe it is about me. But I’m tired.”

April 14th 2025 3:30pm

Nicke glanced up from his book as the surgeon entered the small room. He’d been perched on the bench by the window, which had doubled as his bed the past few nights. From here he could entertain himself, but also keep an eye on Alex as the man drifted in and out of consciousness.

The surgeon intimidated Nicke. He was sharp and intelligent, competent and aware of his skills. Nicke felt thankful for the intimidation. It felt akin to trust.

“How are we doing in here?” the man asked cordially as he strode assertively to Alex’s bedside. Keen eyes scanning the clipboard hanging on the wall, he waited patiently for Nicke to decide to engage in conversation.

“He sleeps a lot,” Nicke supplied. Though he figured the man knew as much. “His um, his face has swollen a lot. Is that? Is that okay?”

Setting the chart down, the man leaned over Alex’s prone form to touch lightly at the stretched skin.

“It happens. I’m not worried at this point.”

The astute green eyes flickered to Nicke’s and he could read the confidence. Nicke clung to it.

“We’re going to take out the staples today,” the surgeon informed as he began to jostle at Alex’s shoulder. The contact slowly pulled Alex from his sleep.

Little moments over the past days, like the Russian’s bleary-eyed confusion now, would jab at Nicke’s heart. This wasn’t the vulnerability he knew and loved. It was a lost, needy vulnerability. Too youthful, too unassured.

“Good morning Alex,” the man greeted, voice strong and clear. Alex just blinked up at him. “We’re going to get those staples out of your head today. Okay?”

A slight nod was all Alex gave., but it was enough for the surgeon to reach forward and begin peeling back the medical tape. It revealed puffy irritated skin, perforated by metal.

A sharp whine escaped Alex’s lips and it had Nicke leaping to his feet. Never in his life had he heard such a tortured sound out of his husband’s mouth. The surgeon only hesitated long enough for Nicke to grab ahold of Alex’s hand before he continued his measured movements. As the tape peeled back, Nicke felt his stomach churn. Whimpers dropping from this, this Russian Machine, paired with the unveiling of the massive ‘C’ shaped wound in his head, it was too much.

When the surgeon left. When Alex had drifted back to sleep. When the nurses cleared out. That’s when Nicke ripped open the door to the attached bathroom and launched himself towards the toilet. Hot tears burned on his cheeks as he heaved.

March 25th 2026 6:11pm

Nicke stood watch as Andre and Tom stepped towards the hospital bed. It wasn’t in a hospital though. Nicke had partnered with hospice to rent the equipment. He didn’t want to face these days surrounded by sterile hallways and white walls. He wanted to be home.

He’d called Tom and Andre when the countdown began. They’d been waiting months now for it to start. They’d wondered if it would all be as clear as the nurses had assured them it would be. But then it came. The day came when Alex didn’t get up. He lacked the strength and the desire and he just stayed put. And there was no question.

So here they were. The day had come. And with it came goodbyes.  
Nicke hated goodbyes. He hated them. He could care for and clean and maneuver his husband with assuredness, but to say goodbye? He just wasn’t ready yet.

As Tom approached, Alex lifted a tired arm to grasp the forward’s hand. They’d named Tom captain last fall. This wasn’t how anyone imagined the passing of the team, but everyone knew the C would go to Tom. He’d risen to the occasion.

Words fell from Alex’s lips, faint and quiet. Indiscernible.

“What was that?” questioned Tom, leaning his ear close to those dry cracked lips.

They heard it this time. They all heard it.

“I still your captain.”

Andre visibly flinched.

Nicke’s stomach dropped.

Tom’s eyes crinkled with warmth. “You will always be my captain O. Always.”

February 10th 2026 3:01am

Nicke startled awake. Sleep came haltingly these days. His spirit alerting him to keep an eye on his ever fidgeting better half.

Turning he reached his hand out in the dark and felt the far side of the bed cold. Empty. His heart pounded as the recesses of sleep were chased away by fear.

The former hockey player threw back his bedsheets and ran to the doorway.

“Alex?” he questioned, voice carrying into the darkness of the hallway. Turning a corner, he saw a sliver of light escaping the office. Pulling open the door he froze in his tracks.

Alex stood in his pajamas, bare feet curled into the carpet, as he juggled three oranges.

“Sötnos,” he bit out through laughter. But he couldn’t carry on. Any words he wanted to convey were swallowed up by hysterics. Tears sprang to his eyes as he cackled.

Here they stood, in the middle of the night with fear pounding in his veins, while the terminally ill love of his life juggled fruit from the kitchen in their office. This was his life now.

“Sötnos, what the fuck are you doing?” he gasped out in between giggles.

Alex, who had dropped the oranges when Nicke barged in, blinked owlishly at his exasperated husband. “Practicing.”

March 31st 2026 1:04am

The nurse had called it Cheyne-Strokes breathing. A crackling, interrupted breathing. Nicke hadn’t slept at all that night. An unease had settled over him as he sat, curled on the couch beside Alex’s bed. The breathing would pause and Nicke would count. Then it would rattle on again. Alex hadn’t eaten in days. They stopped giving him water as well. Nicke hated it, but he understood that restarting the digestive system would make things harder.

Curled under his blanket, hot tea clutched in his too-cold hands, Nicke’s mind wandered to 24 hours prior.

Alex had reached up with all of his remaining might, huge hand cradling the back of Nicke’s head, to draw him near. One, two, three, four, five, six dry pecks to his temple. Small kisses. Goodbye.

Thinking back led a dry sob to crawl up Nicke’s throat. He’d said his own goodbye just a few hours ago as he’d turned out the lights. He’d told Alex he loved him. That he would always love him. And then, though it took everything in him to do so, Nicke had told Alex that he had his permission to let go.

The breathing stopped again. Nicke began to count. A single gasp. Nick started his count over, but something felt different. He scrambled for the light and then up to Alex’s side so he could clutch one large hand between his own. Another gasp.

Alex’s eyes slid open. But it wasn’t him anymore. Nicke choked on air. The room, for the first time in a week, stood silent.

He needed to call it in. He needed to shut Alex’s eyes. For some reason the latter felt more important. Gently reaching out he slid his hand down Alex’s face, but it didn’t’ quite work. A sob broke out into the silence.

He wasn’t ready. He hates goodbyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sötnos - sweetheart (along those lines)

**Author's Note:**

> Solnyshko : apparently means little sunshine in Russian


End file.
